One Last Time
by redvelvetcupcakes
Summary: SPOILER ALERT- Post Borderland. Gibbs has been arrested for his crime and all Abby can do is drown in her guilt. Oneshot. Rated M for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- Hi all, so I know I should probably be working on my other two stories and I kind of am but I just saw borderland, illegally of course, my being in Australia and all, and the end damn near made me cry, one of the best NCIS scenes ever! So here's a one shot of after Gibbs is arrested, assuming the biggest miracle since the ressurrection of Jesus does not occur.

* * *

"_Thanks Patricia...and in breaking news an NCIS federal agent has been arrested for the murder of-"_

The beer bottle had been hurled at the television screen with such force that the glass shattered into millions of tiny pieces. The moment the alcohol hit the wiring inside of the screen it went haywire and sparks flew out in impotent anger, raging against what had been done and could not be undone.

Could _never_ be undone.

With another smothered cry of grief Abby sunk to her couch and sobbed loudly, her hands splayed across her face to better block out the world. To better hide the shame.

Her shame, over what she had done.

At fifteen hundred that afternoon, the Major Crime Response Team had been taken off the case of a murdered petty officer and ordered back to the Navy Yard. At fifteen thirty Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had been taken into custody for the murder of Pedro Hernandez. At sixteen hundred hours the entire team was put on suspension while an interdepartmental investigation got under way. Their laptops had been seized; their badges and passes voided, their guns surrendered and their passports declared invalid, piles of yellow tape had been wrapped around, autopsy, her lab and the bullpen. They were under restricted travel visas for the next ninety six hours, any attempt to go outside the District of Columbia would be considered attempted flight and they would be placed under arrest. They were forbidden to make phone calls to any employee of a federal agency, their email accounts had been frozen and their profiles across all social sites had been taken down.

Leon Vance had explained this to them personally as they sat on the asphalt outside the evidence garage, not allowed to re-enter the building even to collect their personal possessions, Vance had explained that authorities higher up then him had wanted to place them all under arrest. That he had been forced to call in favours across the board to spare them that experience, and that he had damned near had to beg to prevent Ziva's temporary citizenship being revoked.

Every last one of them had worked with Gibbs for years- no one would believe that they had been in the dark about this.

"Military Police will be arriving soon to escort you home" he stood there looking down at them, sitting cross legged, shell shocked, waiting for the world to slow down just an inch so they could catch their breath and comprehend how their lives had so suddenly collapsed around them,

"For the next few days I suggest you do not leave your homes unless it is strictly necessary, once the media gets wind of Gibbs arrest, once they get his name it's going to be open season on the lot of you. It's going to get ugly and it's going to get ugly fast, now I'll do my best to protect you, but there are a lot of people out there who will be wanting answers to questions they'll have every right to ask. So I suggest you worry about your careers first and your loyalties second" he paused then and met the furious eyes of Anthony DiNozzo and Donald Mallard. One of them Gibbs son and the other his oldest friend. One of them had little left to lose and the other no longer gave a fuck. Vance sighed and withdrew a fresh toothpick, placing it between his teeth,

"Good luck"

They had left then, each breaking off into a different direction to find their cars. Each unable to look the other in the eye.

All of them knowing they would see a shared terror and grief.

Gibbs had been _Gibbs_ to them. There were no words to describe his presence, his abilities, his..._him_.

If there was no Gibbs- then what was there?

Abby had tiptoed in her front door and stood looking about the familiar yet suddenly alien territory. It had taken her half an hour to find her passport, even though she knew that she kept all her official documents in her bottom kitchen drawer. The hands that had been opening and closing cupboards and rifling through papers had been stranger's hands, detached from her body. The MP's had nodded politely when she had finally handed it over and left, not bothering to check it was a legitimate passport and she hadn't handed them a fake. Why bother when their faces were on every 'do-not-fly' list across America and the bus and train terminals were running their names against every ticket.

The land of the free, the home of the brave and they were imprisoned in their own homes, cowering in fear at the horrible world they had been forced into.

A world where even gods could fall.

Abby didn't like beer. But that night she drank as quickly as she could, hoping for the blindness that alcohol could bring. She drank German beer that Tony had bought her online, with a gothic label that he didn't understand but had looked awesome. Unfortunately the alcohol level was piss weak so she had been on her fifth when the drab idiocy of the television had betrayed her with 'breaking news'.

Reminding her of all that she had betrayed.

Judas.

Once again she ran out of tears and fell into an apathy brought on by grief.

That was where her intruder found her.

* * *

There was a slight scratching against the front door and when she was able to raise her head and look up, Ziva David was slipping into her lounge room. The woman looked about her curiously, noting everything in that analytical way that she did. The busted television didn't even surprise her, not even warranting a second glance. Silently she slid over to the couch and sat down beside Abby, reaching out with a hesitant hand only to rethink her action and settle them both in her lap.

If you touch a leper all you will gain is leprosy.

"Why are you here?" Abby asked wearily, no longer able to care. Ziva gave her a long sideways glance,

"I came to see how you were doing" she announced in her no nonsense way, shifting to the edge of the couch she found a half empty beer bottle and claimed it for her own, taking a large gulp.

"Were you tailed?" she didn't know why she asked this question, it just seemed like a good question to ask, a sensible work question. Something to fill the gap before the accusations began flying.

Ziva shook her head and one beer bottle down began looking for another. "I did not drive"

That mustered a response, "You walked? From your apartment?"

"Lo" she answered, twisting the cap off her drink, "From Palmer's"

Palmer lived on campus with all the other med students. He was a good half hour drive away.

"I have been doing the circles" Ziva explained between long pulls of beer, "Asking if everyone...if hakol beseder"

Abby frowned at the three Hebrew words dropped in less than three sentences. Ziva's English had certainly taken a beating tonight. And judging by the sloppiness with which she placed the second empty bottle on the coffee table, Abby could tell that she had been drinking before she had reached her.

"What are the other's doing?" she inquired, not really caring except that it was her role to care. Abigail Scuito cared about the team, she worried and she fretted.

She suspected, she betrayed.

"Ducky is listening to a rendition of Madame Butterfly and reading T.S Eliot, Palmer is studying for his upcoming exams, McGee is writing and Tony is...sleeping"

Abby picked up the blush that graced Ziva's cheeks at the last statement, and the smell of stale sex on her skin. Tony and Ziva had officially done the deed.

Had it been yesterday, an entire lifetime ago, she would have been so excited by this news.

But what did it matter when the skies had fallen, the earth had crumbled and there was nothing left but to stare at everything that had once been?

"So you're running around Washington drunk, making sure we're..._what _Ziva? Alive, at home, not trying to destroy every bit of forensic evidence linking us to Gibbs?"

"Actually..." Ziva turned to face her and Abby was stunned by the clear signs of inebriation on her face, she had never seen Ziva drunk, tipsy yes but she'd always had more control than that.

"After Tony fell asleep I raided his spirits cabinet, unfortunately he has been sober for the last six months and there was not a drop in his apartment. I did not want to go to a liquor store and face people so I headed to Ducky's which was closest, had three drinks with him and then onto Palmer's, and then I realised where I needed to be and...here I am"

She spread her hands wide to take in the meaningless room, the air empty and the floor littered with her broken life.

"And why do you need to be here?"

Ziva lay against the back of the couch, her body turned towards Abby's as the question hung between them, as everything hung between them.

"Ari once said to me that 'if the world is shattering around you my beautiful mayflower then I suggest you notice how pretty the falling pieces are', I loved my brother Abby- more than I could ever say"

Abby dutifully nodded, there was wisdom in those words, even with her brain numbed with alcohol she could see that.

What she couldn't see is why she should care about wisdom when truth and knowledge had ripped everything to shreds.

"Did Gibbs ever tell you how my brave lion died?" Ziva inquired her eyes half lidded with a remembered grief. Abby shrugged, Haswari had been her enemy, and it wasn't for her to care how her enemies went.

Not when she could spend the rest of her days caring about how she lost her friends.

"I saw the incident report; he held a gun to Gibbs in his basement"

"Yes, which he did...but I am the one who pulled the trigger, who fired the gun that put the bullet in my brother's brain"

* * *

Silence filled the cavernous space between them. It might have been years before Abby was able to process the meaning of Ziva's words, her mind reaching the horrific conclusion that she was not the alone in the committal of the most heinous of crimes.

Ziva reached over and pulled the limp Abby to her, resting her head on her breast and murmuring to her soothingly,

"The guilt will ache less with time" she promised, "Not day by day, but year by year until you are finally able to live with yourself, until then...we have ninety six hours to lie in our beds and cry, after that we shall endure the trial, however it ends and then we shall go on, as we always do. I am a Jew Abby; believe me when I say I know about surviving even when it seems hopeless. We shall all return to NCIS, Tony will be team leader, McGee will be the senior field agent, I will be McGee's partner but Tony's lover. Ducky and Palmer will remain our medical examiners and you will continue as our forensic expert, you will find evidence where other's believe there is none- and though this experience has hurt you, it shall not break you. It is not what Gibbs would want"

And there was still enough magic left in that name that Abby was able to believe in the impossible.

One last time.

* * *

A/N- Tell me what you think, if I get a good response I might add a couple more one shots from the other's points of view.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- So I tried doing this from Ziva's pov- FYI never watch the Tudors when you're writing fanfiction based in America, just don't do it. But then I suddenly had Vance's feelings running through my mind and wrote this up in half an hour, so tell me what you think- Yes? No? Drugs are illegal so stop taking them while using your laptop?

* * *

**'The Farmer in the dell,**  
**The Farmer in the dell.**  
**I'm the director of a federal agency that's about to go to hell'**

Vance felt numb as he dragged himself home. Barely making it through the front door before his legs went weak and forced to stagger to the nearest armchair lest he fall to the floor in mimicry of the dead.

Jackie saw his expression and hurried to his side, taking his cold lifeless hands in her own as she frantically begged him to tell her what had happened.

**'NCIS is falling down; falling down**  
**NCIS is falling down, my fair lady'**

His ramblings frightened her; she had never seen him so confused, so dazed, so...broken.

Broken- that was a lovely word. He had raised his hopes so high, he had placed his faith up in the stars and the sky.

And the stars had burned out and the sky had fallen. The sun and the moon had turned their back on the world in shame and all that was left was perpetual night.

Tears ran down his face as he tried to explain his heart ache to his wife.

It wasn't that he had liked Gibbs- he had hated him when they had first met, DiNozzo he couldn't stand, Abby was annoying and Ziva he didn't trust as far as he could throw her. McGee had made it clear where his loyalties lay and Ducky and Palmer rarely ventured far enough from autopsy for him to know them properly.

It wasn't that he had truly liked any of them. It was that he had _believed_ in them. In the MCRT- in everything they stood for, everything they did and everything they symbolized. He had believed in them and their rare ability to fix the world, bit by bit, little by little until eventually differences were made, good was done, heroes existed.

And now he was a scared, faithless man left sobbing in the dark because everything he had thought was permanent as stone had turned out to be nothing more than sand, blown away by the windy gale that had descended like heavenly fury upon NCIS. Blown away to reveal the truth.

That everything they had stood for, every good deed, every pious belief, every honest thought had all been built on the body of a Mexican drug dealer.

When Leon Vance died and they cut his body open, they would find the name _Pedro Hernandez _engraved across his heart, for that was the name that had broken him. That had ripped him down until he could no longer stand and had him weeping against his wife's breast, begging her to make the truth go away.

**'Truth, truth go away,**  
**Come again another day,**  
**Vance now knows everything is made of clay**  
**Truth, truth you've caused your pain**  
**Never show your face again'**

Jackie kisses the anguish falling from his open eyes, the scales lying shattered on the floor, impotent now that his blindness has been cured. Oh if only they could be replaced. If only he could wake to find this all a dream- but even if the higher powers heard his plea and performed a rare act of mercy- the memory of the dream alone would haunt him for the rest of his days.

He had _believed _in them!

"Perhaps he will be found innocent" Jackie suggests quietly, remembering the almost silent man who had turned up at her house, unannounced, uninvited and whom she had welcomed with open arms because something about him had seemed _so _good.

She didn't understand and Leon couldn't explain it to her. He doubted that there was a jury in America who would look at the case of the man who had avenged the death of his wife and daughter by killing the murdering drug dealing Mexican and decide to sentence him to coldness and irons and cells. It wasn't that Gibbs could be found guilty.

It was that _everything_ had been broken.

Leon Vance had stood before six human beings today, three federal agents and two medical examiners and one forensic scientist and seen the light go from their eyes.

Not fade because it happened too quickly. Not blink because there was no way he could have missed it. Not die because that was too simple an explanation but _go._

One moment they were angry, indignant and the next they were simply human. No longer heroes, no longer champions of the wronged and symbols for the victims who needed something in which they could finally place their trust, but simply six people whom he had told that everything in which _they_ had focused their hopes and dreams had been a false idol- the Golden Calf at Mount Sinai and for their faith in this fake deity, a lawgiver had descended and smashed stone in his anger.

He had given them ninety-six hours in which they did not have to report their whereabouts.

He prayed to God they would flee.

Flee from the burning wreckage that was their lives. Flee from the crumbled stone that had been their idol. Flee from the persecution they would face for having believed that there was good in the world. Pack their items into cars and disappear into the night, drive and drive until the batteries gave out and the petrol tank emptied, fly until there were no airports left and then walk until their feet gave out and they were at the very ends of the earth.

Run, escape, depart, getaway just leave so that Leon Vance would never have to see evidence of his shattered hopes and dreams again.

Ninety six hours.

He had allowed them to commit crimes in the name of the greater good before and he would do so again.

One last time.


End file.
